


Fucking With Dragons

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exiled from King Miles' court, the mage Bass Monroe only has one chance to ingratiate himself again - and that's by bringing a dragon back from the Kingdom of West Canadia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Utterly Fucked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swietlik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swietlik/gifts), [BeaRyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/gifts).



> Well, Swee, you wanted happy!FML, and you, Bea, wanted crack: so I give you THIS! 
> 
> Disclaimer: West Canadia is fictional. Any resemblance to Real Canadia is wholly unintentional. How can something be called "Canadia" in the first place?
> 
> Other disclaimer: I gave this a mature rating because it's called "Fucking With Dragons" and it felt wrong to give it a "teen and up" rating. Also, I felt quite immature when I wrote this, and the rating is very helpful in grounding me in adulthood.

The Kingdom of West Canadia was covered in snow and had only one visible road. If Bass hadn’t destroyed his last good pair of boots trudging along it, he would have laughed. He used to laugh at the ignoramuses who claimed West Canadia only had one good road, the same knuckleheads who swore up and down it was ruled over by a clan of benevolent moose and that flying squirrel was a delicacy there. But, nope, they were right at least about that one thing!

At least what was left of the Niagara Bridge had frozen over, allowing him to cross into the Northern lands without falling to a very wet and drowny death. They had told many stories in his childhood about the Canadias, but the one about the Enchanted Waterfall had been Bass’ favorite. They had said that despite the endless winter, the waters would not freeze, and that only those who were pure of heart could traverse the watery beast, for otherwise the lake sprites would make the waves rise up and swallow you up where you stood.

Right, so, so much for _that_ theory. Bass certainly wasn’t pure of heart, unless being on a mission for the King Beyond the Lakes counted. It seemed, if anything, he was foolish of heart and daft of brain, for who else would have voluntarily set out to get King Miles an actual _dragon_? But at the time, he had reasoned, he had every reason to leave and nary a motive to stay. Dragon or no dragon, West Canadia was as good a place as any to hide out, at least so long as that ridiculous bounty was still on his head.

Castle Baker was surrounded by a hundred foot wall which formed a hexagon around the citadel. Even having spent most of his life at King Miles’ court, Bass had to admit - albeit grudgingly - to being impressed by the fortifications. Not that he understood how even a hundred foot wall was supposed to keep the dragons _in_ , if - to be fair - that had been the intent. Most likely, the intent had been to keep the riff raff (like a rogue mage in quasi-exile, just as a totally random example) _out_ of the citadel. His powers, of course, would be useless against the King of West Canadia, whose own mage powers had been strong enough to make him control dragons, but the guards at Baker Gate had been ridiculously easy to befuddle.

“I’m here to sell these apples at the market,” he declared, shoving a sack filled with (well, to be honest, mostly his dirty undergarments) nothing of import under their noses, allowing his power of mind-boggling to wash over the men.

“Pass.”

“Much obliged.”

The market bustled with customary activity, the sounds of coins being exchanged and peddlers peddling their wares, was pleasantly distracting after such a long and lonesome journey. Bass had begun to wonder if he wouldn’t go utterly wild on his way to Castle Baker. Incidentally, he thought, he might want to look into getting his blades sharpened and giving himself a shave. His fingers ran over the coarse hairs of his untrimmed beard. He couldn’t very well present himself to the King in this state, especially not if he had been planning on currying favor.

Which, truth be told, was the extent of his plan: ingratiate himself into King Jeremy’s favor, using mostly his good looks and mage education, until such time that he’s able to render the King some kind of a Hereto Unnamed Service, thus earning his eternal gratitude (and a dragon). Plan B was stealing a dragon, but that made Bass think really hard about coming up with a Plan C for CAN YOU NOT. Either way, he couldn’t exactly show his face at King Miles’ court without a damn fire-breathing creature at this rate.

So, first thing first. He headed towards the blacksmith’s shed to see about getting his blades sharpened, and so set was he on his goal that he entirely neglected to look both ways before running head first into an over-embellished and downright peacockish fop.

“Watch where you’re going, asshat!” Bass snapped at the man, knowing full well the collision had most likely been his own fault. Still, bluster usually worked for him.

“Beg pardon?” The man he ran into sneered at him, with a hint of amusement. Bass did not appreciate being laughed at, even when he deserved a touch of ridicule (such as at that moment).

“You _should_ beg pardon, indeed, my good sir! Did you leave your eyes at home? Or are they shoved so far up your ass along with your head that you have completely no sense of direction?” Bass knew he was laying it on a little thick, but once he got going, he couldn’t usually be curbed that easily. You could even say he had impulse control issues.

“Peasant,” the stranger spoke with an overblown sense of condescension, “I can tell you’re not from around here, so I will allow you to be on your merry way, but be so kind as to not be found in the citadel within the hour.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, jackass?” Bass snapped with indignation. “Who died and made _you_ king?”

“That would be my father, Jacob, the previous King of West Canadia,” the stranger replied with pristine composure.

“The previous… what…” Bass’ life began to slowly flash before his eyes. “You are…”

“I am Jeremy Baker, Lord of Castle Baker, Tamer of Dragons, King of West Canadia. And you are?”

 _Utterly fucked_ , Bass thought, before falling to his knees.

“Your humblest servant.”

And waiting for the axe to fall.


	2. Monumentally Screwed

Bass supposed, all things considered, the fact that he wasn’t dead yet was a small victory. He sent a silent prayer of gratitude to his Guides for that. However, as far as his plan was concerned, things were definitely not looking up. He was in a dungeon and no where closer to getting a shave. Except now he had also mortally offended the one man he had come here to impress! Oh well, dying in a dungeon in the Kingdom Beyond the Lakes was no more preferable than dying in a dungeon in West Canadia. A dungeon was a dungeon (dank, dark, malodorous) no matter where, and death was… well, so _final_ , that was the problem with it. It was a mistake you couldn’t very well just bounce back from and try and try again. (Unless the Mages of the East were right about the whole reincarnation thing. But if their theories were true, Bass had to reckon he must’ve done something exceedingly shitty in a prior lifetime - or an alternate universe, as it were - like mass-murder bad, to deserve a life of servitude to King Miles.)

“Foreigner,” a gruff voice summoned him from the keyhole. “The King wants to see you.”

“Great,” Bass muttered. And not a single razor in sight.

***

Kneeling in the Throne Room was not any less awkward than kneeling in the middle of the market place, it turned out. King Jeremy, he who apparently walked among his people _on foot_ (And what kind of King did that?? Miles would have never lowered himself that way!), was seated on his elevated, gilded throne, looking every bit the opposite of the common rube he struck Bass as at the marketplace. The crown perched on top of his thick, blonde hair made him look as if his entire face was framed with a halo. Majestic. Yes, that was the word. Bass could still see the shadow of amusement slyly tucked away in the corners of his physiognomy. It was as if the King found everything, down to being Kingly, eternally entertaining, possibly as Bass’ expense. Well, that remained to be seen.

“Ah, it’s the villainous scoundrel from the marketplace who had allowed himself to profane me yesterday!” the King exclaimed, once Bass supposed he had been quietly genuflecting in his presence long enough.

“The same, Majesty.” The gaunt-faced man who had dragged Bass up from the dungeon bowed obsequiously in the King’s direction.

“Thank you, Master Neville. And what do we know of him?”

“He had no papers on him. We can only presume he must be a lower mage and had fooled the border guards.”

“Hey…” Bass was about to protest but a glare from the man called Master Neville made the words die in his throat. Wanker.

“But he’s clearly not from either of the Canadias, otherwise he would’ve recognized me,” the King continued to speak as if Bass wasn’t present.

“He couldn’t possibly be from Beyond the Lakes, Sire,” Neville continued. “He’s far too much an imbecile to have crossed the Niagara Bridge intact.” Bass decided whoever this Neville guy was, he really disliked him, to put it generously.

“He is quite ungroomed, isn’t he?” King Jeremy purred. Bass wanted to punch the young King in his pompous face. “A barbarian. Perhaps he had crossed over by raft from one of those Siberian off-shoots, you know, the ones where they still hunt Mammoth?”

“I’m right fucking here and I can speak the god damn common tongue!” Bass couldn’t hold his peace a moment longer. They were going to kill him anyways, so why this charade, and added insults?

“That you speak like a commoner, I have no doubts of,” the King turned towards Bass, an incongruous grin spanning his features. “Feisty, isn’t he?” he asked no one in particular.

“Indeed he is, Sire,” that Neville ape chimed in. “Shall I put him back in the gutter where we found him then? Or perhaps back to the dungeon?”

“Tom, do not presume to know My Will,” the King turned to his man, his cheerful disposition in stark contrast to his severe words. Bass could already feel Neville fuming at being contradicted in front of the prisoner and made sure to snarl at him from his position on his knees. “He’s reckless, but clearly brave. And I don’t think he’s a lower mage, as you suppose. Are you, foreigner?”

It felt incredible, finally being acknowledged, as if the King had turned the sun to shine only on Bass as he addressed him.

“Your Majesty,” Bass commenced, bowing low to the floor, “I have indeed been schooled to be an Upper Level Mage at the court of the King Beyond the Lakes.” He could feel the King’s eyes on him, encouraging him to go on. “For that reason, I beg your forgiveness - I was ignorant of your visage - as you said yourself, and acted like a downright boor.” He lowered his eyes, in a blatant show of submission, as well as to hide the fact that something about the King’s stare had been uncomfortably intense.

“Master Neville, we could use an Upper Level Mage, couldn’t we?” the King spoke, eyes still fixed firmly on Bass. 

“Sire, you mean… for…” The man stopped abruptly. “As you say, Sire.”

“Get this man cleaned up and bring him to speak to me again tonight. We shall find out if he’s as skilled with silverware as he is with his tongue.” The double entendre washed over Bass like a waterfall. He had to presume the King had alluded to his (rather inopportune) use of his tongue, when he had insulted the Tamer of Dragons, but something about the way King Jeremy spoke to him made Bass question that presumption.

***

The whole thing had to be a cosmic joke: Bass had never seen so much silverware in his life. There were things that… well… he wasn’t actually sure _what_ the things were for. They might as well have been tiny implements of torture. Bass wondered what exactly they were going to eat that would require five spoons, five forks, and _that_.

At least he had been allowed to bathe, shave, and generally slip into something less peasanty. He had only brought one decent robe, and once it was returned to him (freshly pressed, it would appear), he was only too happy to slip into it, the way he slipped into the persona of the Court Mage when circumstances required it of him.

“Please, sit,” King Jeremy beamed at him from the other side of the exorbitantly long table. “You clean up well, Foreigner. I never did learn your name.”

Bass had just begun to lower into his seat, when he realized protocol bade him get his ass up again and bow.

“Sebastian Monroe, Sire. But my old King used to call me Bass, so it stuck.”

“Hm… Bass,” the King paused as if to savor the sound of it on his tongue. “That’s a kind of fish, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sire,” Bass muttered, eyeing his silverware suspiciously and finally attempting to stab at something with one of the five forks.

“I hear the King Beyond the Lakes is no fool, now, why would the King who is no fool part with his Court Mage? Unless… you’re on a mission for King Miles?”

This Jeremy, King of West Candia, Bass figured, was no fool. Back home, Miles liked to make jokes about the Northern King, which frequently insulted his mind, his body, and his entire lineage. Perhaps, Bass was now realizing, Miles was even more full of shit than his extensive stables. It was time to lie, and in Bass’ experience, the best lies were the kind that were always couched in half-truths.

“I’ve been exiled from King Miles’ court,” he spoke after chewing his food for an exceptionally long while, as he contemplated his next move. “I came here to offer my services to the Tamer of Dragons, of whom I have heard… so much. But, alas, you yourself, Majesty, were the witness to my most unfortunate blunder. It is surely by your grace alone that I yet live, and therefore my desire to be of service to you is redoubled.”

Good, Bass, that was very good. He mentally patted himself on his own back.

“Why did King Miles exile you from his realm?”

Right, so… that was the tricky part.

“I… uh… he caught me in bed with his niece,” Bass managed in between sips of fortified wine. Yes. That was not a lie.

“Was his niece a virgin?”

“Not by the time I got to her,” Bass shrugged.

“How very peculiar,” King Jeremy smiled into his oyster and slurped it down loudly. Bass was beginning to suspect the _thing_ was supposed to help him eat the shellfish. 

But yes, um, _peculiar_ , sure, why not. That was definitely a way to describe Bass’ situation. But he figured it was best if the King thought he was just a philandering, niece-fornicating type, rather than find out the actual _details_ of the situation.

“Well, that was certainly indiscrete of you, Master Monroe.”

“It _was_ , Sire. An indiscretion I regret deeply.” Also - not a lie.

“Well, I certainly hope your skills will prove to be helpful in my own service,” the King toasted him from across the table.

Bass lifted his own glass and bowed deeply again, “I pray to my Guides that they help me in this endeavor, My Lord.” They chewed a bit in companionable silence, when Bass finally decided to try his luck again but casually asking, “Sire, while I am here, I was hoping to have a chance to see those magnificent beasts that you take one of your honorifics from.”

“Oh, you mean the dragons?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“You’re in luck then, Master Monroe!” King Jeremy said in his usual jovial tone. “They’ve both escaped and I need to get them back. Actually, that’s what I’m hoping to have your help with!”

 _Oh_ , Bass almost dropped his glass. Why did he think this was going to be easy? Loose dragons: he was so monumentally screwed.


	3. Basically Buggered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's time for a disclaimer from here on outwards:
> 
> CRACK FANTASY! Don't come telling me that something I wrote here is "impossible" or "wrong".

In typical fashion, when someone bids you to get a good night’s rest because some Herculean task awaits you the next morning, that would be precisely when you can’t sleep a wink. Bass lay in his newly appointed palatial chamber and almost missed the dungeon. There was a kind of certainty about the whole death thing, when it loomed over you, but now this death was uncertain but putatively fiery. It was very confusing, all told.

Back when he and Miles - _King_ Miles, he had to remind himself - were just boys together, playing wizards and dragon-riders at the shore of Greater Lake, his life also had a very clear certainty. It was all spelled out for him: with his innate abilities and close family ties to the royal family, he was certain to grow up to be the Court Mage. And Miles would be his King. And together they would rule benevolently over the Kingdom. And also there would be dragons, simply because how can you call yourself a self-respecting King of _anything_ without a single dragon.

It _mostly_ all worked out that way, too. Of course, there were no dragons in the Kingdom Beyond the Lakes - they had been tamed by the Northern Kings ages ago and never ventured beyond the Arbitration Line. But other than that, Bass and King Miles did rule over their land together, mostly in private but often in public as well, for it was common for the King to consult with the Court Mage openly. Until of course _she_ had shown up, and ruined everything by making Miles fall in love with her. Damn her sorceress heart!

He kept playing it over in his head: where did he go wrong? Why hadn’t he been enough for Miles? What hole was _she_ able to fill in his soul that Bass couldn’t? It was fruitless, of course. Still, he couldn’t help but dwell on it, here - in West Canadia. He had come there to get Miles the only thing that _she_ couldn’t give him. A fucking dragon, that’s what.

So, in a way, if he was killed by one on this expedition, he had no one but himself to blame.

The next morning, the dragon hunting party had assembled in full force. King Jeremy had insisted on going personally, which of course meant half the court had been assembled to see them off. It made no sense to Bass: if the head of your government is fixing to go on a mission more than likely to result in death, why were they all just politely waving goodbye instead of trying to stop him? This must have been a Canadian thing. Bass shrugged.

Accompanying them on the journey was the ever-present Master Neville (Bass wouldn’t mind if a dragon ate him, for example), his disturbingly comely son named Jason (Bass had to really turn his thoughts towards Heavens there to avoid committing another indiscretion), another soldier referred to simply as Danny (also nice - but a little on the young side for Bass), and two glorious badasses named Nora and Duncan (Bass had heard before that West Canadia had a lot of Amazonian mercenaries, and these ladies were excellent specimens thereof). 

“Have you met everyone in my honor guard, Sebastian?” The King had come up behind him, stealthy as a cat, and Bass felt his breath tickle the back of his neck. There was something pleasing about the way he had dismissed the abbreviated version of his name, as if he felt that the full version had been worth his effort. Then again, this was the same King who apparently walked in the marketplace instead of being carried around in a litter, like Miles liked to be. 

“Your Majesty,” Bass bowed deeply, still a little shocked at his luck of having managed to cheat death for so long despite his very blatant idiocy. “You favor quite the attractive honor guard.”

“Are you implying I picked them for their looks?”

“Well, not old Neville, Sire.”

The King laughed. Bass liked the way he laughed. His whole face would crinkle and his eyes sparkled like topazes. 

“I see sleep didn’t make you any less reckless, my good Sir Mage.”

“Truth be told, I barely slept at all, Sire,” Bass confessed, mounting his horse next to the King, who had also lept into the saddle without extraneous help. Bass caught himself staring at the King’s thighs as they straddled his own steed’s flanks, and then mentally chastised himself for his obvious lack of control. His stupid boner got him into enough trouble already, _before_ he even got to West Canadia.

“Going over a litany of your misdeeds, no doubt,” the King smirked and spurred his horse onwards. The cavalcade moved on before Bass could come up with a witty retort. It was probably for the best.

For a while he rode in companionable silence between Nora and Duncan, now and then his contemplation being interrupted by some kind of a glare or scoff from Neville. Several times he had been tempted to a cast a transformation spell on the man, and only the indecision of whether he’d make a better hog or a weasel kept him from extending his arm towards the King’s advisor. Eventually, they came upon a mountainous crest which required them to get into a single file formation, with King Jeremy at the head of the party and Bass somehow brazenly directly behind him (and no, it wasn’t because he had at the time been trying to get a closer look at the King’s bum).

“Enjoying the view?” The King turned towards Bass, who felt a huge lump form in his throat.

“I… um… I wasn’t….”

“I meant the mountains, Sir Mage. Nothing quite as trivial as my horse’s arse.”

Right - _that_ arse.

“The mountains are really… mountainous. It’s a lot of terrain, Majesty.”

“Is there not a lot of… terrain… where you live?”

It was a little weird that the King was trying to make small talk while making a fairly dangerous descent into what appeared to be a snow covered valley, and on horseback. Bass was duly impressed with their horses as well, at the ease with which they navigate the snow. It must’ve been a Canadian breed - he’d never seen anything like these beasts in his own homeland.

“What we might call a hill back home, you wouldn’t even trip upon, Sire,” Bass finally responded, feeling a bit better that the King hadn’t actually caught him checking out his ass. (It was a really nice ass.) 

(No, really, it couldn’t be helped.)

“Well, you’re holding up just fine,” the King said, briefly turning towards him in his saddle, before resuming his trek. “Our reports indicate that we have to cross at least one more ridge. And then we should start seeing signs of my run-aways. Soon, we’ll need to dismount and leave the horses.”

Everything was going great until they had stopped for food. Bass had to figure eventually the pleasant outing, the polite camaraderie, would have to come to an end. He just didn’t expect it to happen in such a _spectacular_ manner.

He was halfway through munching on his fire-roasted rabbit, trying to explain something to the King he really didn’t want to be discussing again - 

“So, tell me again, why did you sleep with your King’s niece?”

“Charlotte… she was…” _She saw me, really saw me, and I felt, for the first time in a long time, like I belonged when I looked at her._ “Really beautiful, Sire. And my King…” _Had abandoned me._ “My King was very fiercely protective of her.”

“So, you did it on purpose? To get back at your King for some slight?”

“What? NO. I…”

\- when out of the corner of his eye, he saw something, white, furry, and lightning-fast leaping off a nearby rock towards them.

“STOP!” He was on his feet, his hand extended towards the snowy creature with exposed fangs, and the blast of energy from his palm blasted the beast away. 

“Don’t kill it! It’s a snow leopard!” The King was on his feet as well, grabbing Bass’ extended arm with a firm hand. Bass could feel his body flush against his own back, his composure in the face of such blatant danger a thing to be awed at.

The would-be attacker scrambled back onto its paws and then, as if after momentary contemplation, turned tail and ran.

“They’re so beautiful and rare, even in these parts. I didn’t wish you to kill it.”

“It hides in plain sight so well,” Bass shook his head and tried to catch his breath. He was pretty sure he had just saved the King’s life, but whatever, apparently big white cats were more important.

“Your magic is powerful, foreigner,” the warrior named Nora spoke, “but you shouldn’t have used it here. The mountains are pregnant with snow. A blast like that can…” Her eyes wandered off towards the mountain crests around them.

“Can what?” Bass asked, uncertain where this was going.

“Shit,” was all Nora said.

“What? What is it?”

“RUN!” That was Neville, which meant something was seriously wrong.

“Come on!” The King’s hand was on Bass’ arm.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s an avalanche!”

“A what?” 

Bass ran after the King, not quite sure exactly what was the point of all the running because if it was an actual avalanche, how the hell were they supposed to outrun it, when he felt the ground around him shake. He looked up then (a mistake), only to see a wall of snow separating itself from the mountain and beginning to crash down in their direction.

“This way!” 

Around them, the horses were going wild in their tethers, using their powerful muscles to break loose and set off in a gallop. The King’s hand was still holding on to his arm, as he was being propelled somewhere. He tripped, fell, rolled for a while, landed somehow on top of the King, got up, ran some more, until he finally heard the one thing he really was hoping not to have to hear.

“JUMP!”

Bass shut his eyes and followed the King over the ridge as behind him the world collapsed in one constant apocalypse of snow. They were all basically buggered.


	4. Not Even a Reach-Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DRAGONS, FUCKERS!

Funny, Bass didn’t _remember_ passing out, yet that’s exactly what must’ve happened because he didn’t recall falling asleep in an igloo. With a guy on top of him. The guy who was the King of West Canadia, no less. Bass would’ve remembered that.

“Well, this is awkward,” the King muttered into Bass’ neck.

“What is happening, Your Majesty?”

“I think, under the circumstances, you should just call me Jeremy.”

What? Did they have _the sex_? When??? 

Bass wasn’t sure how to react to that news. Or what to do with his hands. Did that mean he should feel free to avail himself of the liberty to touch the Royal bum? He tried to shift a bit, which only ended up rubbing his boner against the King’s thigh.

“Um, I’m not trying to be offensive, Sire, but… I don’t quite… uh… recall. The circumstances.”

The man on top of him laughed right into his neck again.

“Well, you saved my life, I saved yours. Now we need to dig our way out from all this snow. That about sums it up - so you can just call me by my name.”

“Oh. Oh! _Those_ circumstances!”

“Can you just help me dig? Unless you’re planning on using your prick for that.”

“Hey, you’re on top of _me_. Jeremy.” 

***

Never get into an argument with a Canadian King underneath a heap of snow. First of all, they understand snow way better than you. And second, just because the guy lands on top you all ass up, doesn’t make him any less Kingly.

They were alone, without horses, without supplies, on the other side of the crest where the avalanche had struck, and with no way to know how any of their escort had fared.

“An avalanche, which, incidentally, you caused!” Jeremy barked at him.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna hold that against me! You said it yourself, I saved your life!”

“I was perfectly capable of staving off a leopard attack on my own, Sebastian!”

“Well, then… why didn’t you?”

It was probably only due to Jeremy’s ability to make life-saving igloos that Bass was still ambulatory at all. Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps he really did hit his head, all he knew was that somehow they had spent the night beneath a blanket of protective snow, and now they were back to looking for bloody dragons. He had to put his life into the King’s hands, since he for one had no idea which direction to even head in without a compass (which of course he hadn’t thought to pack).

“Shh… this way,” Jeremy seemed sure enough, so Bass trudged along behind him.

“Jeremy.”

“Yes, _Bass_?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Why do I have a feeling it’s going to be a rude one?”

“Because you have very little faith in me.” Bass figured, they were triple fucked anyways, and no one was coming to save them, so why not play a little fast and loose with courtly etiquette. Jeremy sighed demonstratively and rolled his topaz-like eyes. “How do you know where to go?”

“Because I can sense them.”

“The dragons?”

“Yup.”

“Well, forgive me again if I seem out of line…”

“Oh, don’t deny yourself on my account.”

“If you can, as you say - sense them - then how did they get loose in the first place?”

“These dragons and I have a special bond. You wouldn’t understand. You’re not of Dragon Kin, like my ancestors. Your magic is a different kind of magic.”

_Oh, excuuuuuuuse meeeeee_ , Bass allowed himself a silent, mental indulgence, and congratulated himself on his self-restraint.

“In fact,” King Jeremy went on, “I can tell you without any uncertainty that they are hunkered down in that cave, just up ahead and to the right of us.”

“What, _that_ cave?” Bass peeked from behind Jeremy. That particular cave looked… dark and menacing, actually. “Doesn’t it seem a little… quiet to you?”

“What were you expecting? The dragons to be dancing the gavotte for you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some more… fire?”

They stopped a ways off to observe the opening of the cave. About half an hour went by without anything happening, other than Bass’ stomach growling and Jeremy explaining to him how to melt and drink the snow so that they didn’t die of dehydration in addition to being incinerated by dragons.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Bass finally stated the obvious. “ _You’re_ a Tamer of Dragons, why don’t you go over there and just… you know. Tame.” 

Jeremy sighed and leaned against the nearby rock, rubbing the back of his head in an almost boyish way. Bass had to admit, he was adorable when he was attempting not to look circumspect.

“I can’t.”

“Come again?”

“You heard me. I can’t do it. That’s why I needed you here - I no longer have my ability to communicate with the dragons the way I used to. I can feel them, but I can’t… you know.”

Bass threw up his arms in a gesture of utter exasperation.

“ _Now_ you tell me! How the hell did _that_ happen?”

Jeremy looked chagrined and Bass felt a pang of regret. Losing his mage powers had been his greatest fear (after losing Miles, but look - hey - he had _sort of_ survived that), so he felt acute sympathy for the King.

“There was a woman,” Jeremy muttered.

“Of course there was a woman. There’s always a woman,” Bass groaned and sat back down. He patted the slab of rock next to him. “Come, Jeremy. Tell me what trouble you got yourself into.”

Surprisingly, the King lowered himself onto the rock, the heat from his body warming Bass in an unexpected but more than welcome way. For a Northern King, Jeremy sure did burn like a bright furnace. It made Bass want to reach out again and touch him. 

“She was a sorceress, from the Southern lands. She was coming through here, allegedly just to see the dragons. But I suspect a bigger part of her plan was to seduce me into making her my Queen. Well, I… wasn’t inclined that way, Sir Mage.” There was something almost shy in the smile that Jeremy gave Bass as he said that.

“So, what, did you blow her off?”

“Politely,” Jeremy reassured him.

“Obviously.” As if the Canadians knew any other way, Bass shook his head.

“She flew into a rage. She accused me of loving my dragons more than I was capable of loving a person.”

“Ouch! She called you a dragon-fucker?”

Jeremy laughed again, his hand slapping against Bass’ thigh in an outburst of genuine mirth.

“Yes, I suppose in her own way, she did. And to punish me for this personal affront, she used her magic to take away mine.” Jeremy stopped and looked at Bass as if for reassurance.

“The only magic I know of that can do that is the magic of the Nanites,” Bass said, suddenly feeling himself grow nauseated. “Nanite magic absorbs all other magic that it touches.”

“Exactly! I remember the sorceress mentioning she had been trained in a Nanite Convent.”

“Jeremy,” Bass took the other man’s hands in his and stared into his eyes, “This is really important. Was the sorceress’ name… Rachel?”

“How did you know?” Jeremy’s eyes grew wide with awe.

“Because you weren’t the only one to have something stolen by her.”

***

The next half an hour was passed in Bass telling Jeremy the story of Rachel’s arrival at King Miles’ court. How she descended upon them like a dark cloud, sucking all joy and fun out of his King’s heart, leaving only a dry husk which only seemed to want to be watered by her own presence. He, once again, omitted certain details, but they weren’t necessary to demonstrate the extent of _her_ powers.

“I guess the moral of the story is, don’t feel too bad that you’ve been fucked over by her,” Bass completed his tale.

“I suppose it’s a small comfort that she’s settled now.”

Yeah, not if Bass had anything to do with that. His one remaining goal in life had been to _un_ settle her. In fact, that was why he was there, hunting dragons, in the first place. Which reminded him…

“Jeremy, what the hell do we do? They haven’t stirred in there for over an hour.”

“Do you think you can cloak yourself long enough to get inside and assess the situation?”

“Well, since you put it _that_ way…” Bass was fairly decent at producing the cloaking effect. Surely it wouldn’t have to be that strong to full an animal. Then again, dragons weren’t exactly animals - they were - duh! Dragons. Powerful. Scary. Fierce. And really fucking murderous.

“My dragons were gentle and docile when they lived with me at Castle Baker,” Jeremy prodded, his hand stroking along Bass’ arm. Somehow, Bass wasn’t feeling very reassured. But hey, screw it, he’d come this far.

“Fine. Wait here. No point in both of us getting cooked.”

He concentrated for a few moments as he manifested the cloaking spell, and then began to climb towards the mouth of the cave.

***

“Okay, Jeremy, you _really_ suck at dragons!” Bass uncloaked himself as he descended, still breathing heavily from both the climb and the fact that he had just stood mere meters away from two gigantic, fire-breathing, fucking dragons. “By the way, they’re breathtaking. Simply magnificent. Oh. And? About to be parents.”

“What did you say?” Jeremy sprung to his feet.

“Eggs. Lots of eggs. Dragon babies, Jeremy. I mean, could we possibly be any _more_ fucked? And really, not even a reach-around for all our efforts!” 

“Okay, okay, just calm down and explain this to me. Quietly. And with less… hyperbole.”

“Did you even know that one of your dragons is female?”

“No.”

“See? You _suck_ at dragons!”

“That’s because they’re hermaphroditic,” Jeremy stated as if that was supposed to make Bass feel better. “They’re much older than reptiles and amphibians and therefore have ancestral characteristics of both. They were both presenting as male when I got them. But amphibians have been known to change their gender, for procreation purposes before. I guess so can dragons.”

Bass was trying to give him his best “Do go on” look but in reality was probably giving him something closer to the “I’m going to eat your face” look.

“I would’ve sensed this, had that sorceress - Rachel - not taken away my powers. Of course! This explains why they escaped! Dragons cannot stand to bring forth young in captivity.”

“Oh, well, that’s terrific. Well, your gay dragons made gaybies! I did mention all the numerous, tiny, surely adorable dragons that are about to hatch, right? I am pretty sure when I was in the cave, several of the eggs had started to form cracks on them.”

“Did the parents see you?” Jeremy asked, his face suddenly growing serious.

“Of course not. I was cloaked.”

“What about smell? Do you think they could’ve smelled you?”

“Well,” Bass thought he had covered his bases, but, “It’s possible the cloaking spell didn’t cover my scent. Why?”

“Because,” Jeremy nodded towards the cave. “We’re about to be attacked.”

Bass turned in time to see a huge, pissed-off dragon swoop down from the mouth of the cave, his gigantic wings beating against the air, as he plummeted straight towards the two men.


	5. Without a Drop of Lube

It was one thing facing down a dragon when you were cloaked and he was cooing over his soon-to-be hatchlings with his hermaphroditic life partner, but it was a different thing entirely when Papa was hurtling down towards you from on high, wings spread, nostrils spewing out smoke like two very poorly attended chimneys. Bass had never tested his powers against something so powerful, so ancient, so… god damn huge! Truth be told, he was feeling a little emasculated.

Fortunately, Jeremy snapped him out of it by helpfully yelling right into his ear.

“DO SOMETHING, MAGE!!!”

Right then. Bass held out his hand as he had the previous day with the snow leopard and prayed to his Guides to either help or take him away to die of embarrassment somewhere else, away from the King of West Canadia’s gemstone eyes.

“STOP!” Bass commanded, a wall of energy blasting off his palm and into the air.

On the plus side, it did appear to briefly befuddle and annoy the dragon. But once the dragon realized he’d been hit with a magical energy bomb, he appeared to sneer, floating in the air momentarily, as if deciding how best to crush the two men so as to make it most memorable. Finally, the dragon inhaled through his nostrils, a cleansing breath, one worthy of the yoga practices of the Mages of the East, and exhaled out of his maw in a beautifully aimed stream of fire.

“Fuck!” Bass placed his body in front of Jeremy and threw out his second palm, a force shield forming between the two men and the raging inferno.

“Good one,” Jeremy assured him, politely patting him on the ass, no doubt as a sign of encouragement and general solidarity. 

Bass wasn’t sure whether to thank him or slap him. Who did this guy think he was, anyways? Sleeping on top of him, and now touching his ass like it belonged to him, and all while Bass was _attempting_ to save them both from fiery death. One would _think_ , wouldn’t one, that it was neither the time nor the place, but one would apparently have to not be Canadian at the time in order to grasp this concept. 

“Keep it up,” the King added, also entirely unhelpfully, in light of his hand positioning.

“Quit distracting me! You’re diverting my energy to the wrong extremities!”

“Oh dear,” was all Jeremy said.

“Seriously not helping though!” Bass shouted, feeling his strength faltering. “I can’t hold him back that much longer! Do they ever run out of fuel?”

“Nope.”

“Then I could really use a little help here, Jeremy! You know these creatures better than I do!”

“Well,” Jeremy continued, in his same generally phlegmatic tone, “We could try burrowing into the snow again. They don’t see the same way as we do - they pick up on heat signatures.”

“That’s useful!” Bass shouted again, as he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate what was left of his energy at the tips of his fingers. “Start digging then!”

“Right!”

“Nice dragon, good dragon,” Bass muttered to himself as his airborne opponent took a little breather and did an aerial victory lap around the two men. Bass didn’t blame him for trying. He probably would’ve done the same to protect his family. Hell, he _had_ done the same to protect Miles back in the day, when his King had asked his Court Mage to help him fight a war against the ‘Murican Rebels.

He felt Jeremy’s strong arm wrap around his midsection and a force not of his own making pulled him back. Before he knew it, he found himself buried in another cocoon of snow, only the barest tip of his face sticking out, so that he could observe with his own eyes his impending demise, no doubt.

But, to his surprise, the demise didn’t arrive. The dragon did another sweep, anointed a few of the mountain tops in his flames, and apparently satisfied that his foes were no longer in existence, headed back to the cave. The cave from which, judging by the noise, a dozen of freshly hatched baby dragons were liable to ensue at any moment.

“There has to be a better way,” Bass whispered loudly (the cold had apparently taken away his ability to make more voluminous noises).

“There is one more thing we can try, but I do not think you’ll be very happy about it,” Jeremy spoke from the snow mound next to Bass, his own nose the only thing visible from the air. 

This arrangement was not preferable to the igloo. At least in the igloo, Bass could’ve copped a feel. Now he was cannoli frozen _and_ still kind of horny. The whole thing was weirdly uncomfortable.

“Tell me more,” he croaked weakly.

“We can mind-share.”

“Come again?”

“You’re a very powerful Mage, Sebastian. If you allowed our minds to make a psychic connection, I could use your powers to regenerate whatever might still be left of my own powers. Or at the very least, I can guide you, while you tame the dragons yourself.”

“That is a _terrible_ plan!”

“See? I told you you wouldn’t like it.” 

Jeremy probably shrugged because the snow mound next to Bass bounced a bit. Bass figured, any minute now, and he’d die of hypothermia anyways. It seemed he was doomed to death at either extremity of the thermometer that day. It was either that or open up his actual _brain_ to Jeremy, and risk having the Canadian King find out… well, possibly everything about him. 

“Would you rather die?” Jeremy asked, as if sensing the entirety of his thought processes.

“Can’t we, like, run away instead?”

“Run away? With an army of freshly hatched dragons that can attack my Kingdom at any moment? Don’t be daft, Sebastian. At least one of us _has_ to be able to tame them.”

“If we do this... mind-sharing... thing,” Bass whispered as loudly as he could, “You have to promise me not to go digging around in my head.”

“Can’t promise that - I won’t have that much control over the procedure.” 

At least he was being honest, but talk about getting fucked in the ass without a drop of lube!

“You’ll owe me!” Bass grumbled.

“Oh, I think we’re _quite_ beyond that,” Jeremy replied.

And _that_ was incontrovertible logic.


	6. Seriously, It’s Not Funny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DRAGON BABIES

“Relax!”

“I am relaxed!”

“No you’re not, I can feel your jaw clenching when I touch your temples.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t aggressively trying to burrow _into my mind_ , I might be able to unclench a bit.” And he didn’t mean just his jaw, damn it.

“Sebastian, you have to let me in,” Jeremy’s fingers pressed gently into his temples again. Bass pouted. “Don’t do that. You’re straining your whole face.”

“Fuck’s sakes, Majesty!”

“This isn’t an exact science!”

Bass took a deep breath and tried to relax again. 

“Relax your eyes, too,” Jeremy prompted, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin of Bass’ shuttered eyelids. He felt the King’s thumbs trace the outline of his lashes. It would be erotic, if it wasn’t so damn intimate. Wait. _No._ Yes. That.

_You don’t think eroticism should be intimate?_

That time, the voice came from inside Bass’ brain.

“Woah, woah, **no** \- you said you weren’t gonna go snooping around up there!”

“Actually, I very specifically made no such promise. I told you, it’s not an exact science.”

“Well, on the plus side, I guess we know you’re in.” Bass opened his eyes and looked at Jeremy. He felt… ostensibly the same.

“I can feel it,” Jeremy spoke with a voice tinged with awe. “Your innate abilities are uncanny. And your teachers must have… hm… yes, yes, I can see it… they had their hands full with you!”

“No snooping!”

“I need to do a _bit_ of snooping. I have to figure out what I can use in here to do the dragon taming,” Jeremy closed his eyes and placed a warm hand on Bass’ shoulder. “I think I have it.”

“What?” Again, Bass didn’t actually feel anything particularly different. If they were mind-sharing, shouldn’t he be able to access some of the Jeremy’s deepest/darkest, such as it were? The hand on his shoulder felt right, grounding, as if without it he might somehow turn into a bird and fly away. “I want to fly away,” he muttered, words escaping him without premeditation.

“Yes, that’s to be expected. You’re starting to feel the residuals of my experiences with dragon-riding.”

“You actually _rode_ your dragons? Like, actually really?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not as difficult as you think.”

Jeremy’s eyes were still closed but his fingers gripped Bass tighter.

“Is something wrong?” Bass asked, although he felt surprisingly calm, all things considered. As if opening up the source of all his magical power to a perfect stranger had been the most natural thing in the world. Except Jeremy didn’t _feel_ like a stranger. Not anymore. Bass wasn’t sure if he ever did, to begin with.

“No. Detour. Sorry. I think I’m ready to begin.” Jeremy opened his eyes and let go of Bass, making the mage feel the loss of that warm, reassuring hand.

“Great! What do we do?” Bass blinked rapidly at Jeremy.

“We’re going into the dragon cave.” Jeremy rose, shook of the clumps of snow still stubbornly clinging to his clothes, and reached his hand out towards Bass. “Come on, then.”

“Ha ha, no we’re not,” Bass deadpanned.

“Oh, but we _are_. That was the entire purpose of this exercise.”

“Seriously, it’s not funny.”

“Of everything that I know about you, Sebastian, the one thing that is clearest in my mind is that you’re not a coward. Second, is that you’d do anything for those you love. So you must understand me when I say that I’d do _anything_ to protect my Kingdom.”

“Look, Jeremy… I came here to… Well, it doesn’t really matter why I came here. What matters is, now that I’ve gotten to know you, I think you’re a great guy… King… a great King. But… dragons, man!”

Jeremy reached out and placed both hands on Bass’ shoulders, bringing the other man closer until their foreheads touched.

“People do the stupid, selfish thing every time, right?” Jeremy whispered and Bass felt like his heart was about to explode. He couldn’t stomach that, Miles’ words coming back at him from Jeremy’s mouth. He tried to pull away but the King held him steady. “Well, not today, they don’t. Today, we ride dragons, Sir Mage.”

The climb to the cave was as short as it was the last time Bass made it, the difference this time being that, of course, he was uncloaked, and following Jeremy to certain death. On the plus side, he was _following Jeremy_ , which meant at least pre-mortem he got to admire Canadia’s Finest Ass again and at close quarters. He didn’t even care if Jeremy knew - getting objectified was the least he could do in exchange for shortly getting them both killed.

At the mouth of the cave, Jeremy stopped and reached out for Bass’ hand again, pulling him to stand at his side.

 _Don’t be afraid_ , Bass heard Jeremy’s voice inside his own head. And then he felt it - the _connection_ \- as if suddenly he and Jeremy and the dragons were one and the same. And it felt… it felt…

 _Oh my god, they’re sooooo cute!_ Bass projected.

Mama Dragon, whose name was apparently Toronteth (according to Jeremy’s head), extended a magnificent wing, and down it slid three freshly hatched dragonlings. They shuffled and wabbled, finally coming to rest at Bass’ feet. The bravest of the three proudly proclaimed, “Bggggthhhh!”

 _Welcome, King Jeremy_ , Bass heard and instinctively recognized in the voice the same attacker who only earlier that day tried to annihilate them both by reducing them to tiny piles of ash.

 _Vancouth, Toronteth, why did you leave?_ Jeremy responded. _I could have provided you with a safe place to have your little ones._

The little ones in question, of which a few more appeared from underneath the folds of their parents’ wings, scuttled in closer to sniff at the new arrivals. One of them sneezed tiny whiffs of smoke onto Bass’ shoes.

 _Can I touch one? I wanna touch one,_ Bass practically whined.

Instinctively again, Bass realized that he suddenly knew each little critter by name. There was Nevith, Sivath, Coreith, and Beareath (the one who sneezed on him). And the ones flocking around Jeremy’s arms as he bent down to pick them up, were Lusarth, Resarth, and Deventh.

 _A clan of seven - how very fertile of you,_ Jeremy’s inner voice carried to the dragons. _Our congratulations and joy at their arrival._

 _We tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t hear us,_ Toronteth moved gracefully, his (although Bass was entirely confused about the dragon’s gender, considering the laying of the eggs and all) tail extended towards Jeremy. _The Nanite Sorceress did that to you, didn’t she, our King?_

 _Yes, but a new mage from the South has restored my powers. This is Sebastian,_ Jeremy pointed towards Bass. _He’s a friend._

“How did you know this would work?” Bass asked, out loud. 

“I believed in you,” Jeremy smiled and cradled Lusarth to his chest. “Be careful. They might spit up fire at you if you accidentally burp them, but you may pick them up.”

Bass looked at the baby dragons at his feet a bit askance, not really trusting Beareath to not accidentally sneeze fire at him. Nevith was busy trying to eat his laces, which also did not instill any faith. Sivath was more interested in chewing on her own tail than being played with. Which left Coreith - the one who said “Bggggthhhhhh!” It seemed the logical choice. He bent down and stretched out his palm, imitating Jeremy, and squealed with delight as the little dragon jumped into it. 

“Gthhhhhhaaaa!” the baby dragon declared.

 _I want this one,_ Bass thought, and quickly flushed because he realized that his thought was projected to the audience. Vancouth sneered at him, but at least didn’t try to burn him to a crisp. Toronteth appeared to be giving him a bitchface. He couldn’t be sure - that might just have been dragon resting face.

 _Now that our connection is restored, we’re going home,_ Jeremy announced. _Vancouth, I’ll ride you. Toronteth, be nice to Sebastian - he’s never flown before._

“I think I’ll shit myself with excitement!” Bass declared.

“I would try to contain my bowel movements until we’re at least back at Castle Baker,” Jeremy gave Bass a crooked smile and walked over the Papa Dragon, babies still trailing in his wake.

“What about them?” Bass pointed to the tiny hatchlings.

“The clan will follow us.”

Since Jeremy seemed so sure, Bass figured there was no point in arguing. He propped Coreith onto his shoulder and tried to imitate everything the King did (while attempting earnestly not to crap himself).

Toronteth extended his tail towards him, in an apparent invitation to mount. Bass couldn’t believe this: the scales, the wings, the magnificent creature that was inviting him to straddle his back like a horse. _A fucking dragon, eat your heart out, Miles!_

 _Any day now,_ the dragon sassed him. He could see why Jeremy enjoyed the company of these two so much, when they weren’t on a killing rampage.

“What do I hold onto?”

“Your head,” Jeremy snickered and Bass swore that if he didn’t die, he would have his revenge. Somehow.

***

Bass thought, when he ran off from the Kingdom Beyond the Lakes, that he had nothing left to look forward to. That his entire life could be divided into periods of “With Miles” and “After Miles,” and anything in the “After” category would resemble and eternal void, a void into which no ray of sun or joy could ever penetrate. But that was before he was airborne atop a dragon, with Jeremy at his side, and all of West Canadia, resplendent in its whitest snow, stretching out beneath them as they flew home.

All the dragons safely back in their dwelling at the Castle, Bass was only too happy to follow Jeremy back to the dining hall. He hadn’t eaten in days, and all the magic he’s been using and sharing has drained him so much that he was only upheld by the sheer excitement of the dragon-ride. They were happy to learn that Neville and the rest of the escort made it out of the avalanche in one piece, although Jeremy muttered in an irritated way about pretty boys and mercenaries and how unreliable the entire world was when it came to following him into the maws of death. He happily excluded Bass from being lumped into this diatribe.

They devoured most of their meal as if they were part-dragons themselves, and just when was starting to get comfortably loguey, Jeremy directed that sharp, aquamarine gaze at him, and spoke.

“I’m sorry that you lost your King and lover to the Nanite Witch.” Bass twitched and opened his mouth to speak, but Jeremy held up a palm, in that annoyingly regal way, and Bass had to shut his face again. “If you really think that bringing him a dragon will salvage some old semblance of your love, then of course I’ll give you Coreith and you can return to the Kingdom Beyond the Lakes. I only thought you should know that I think you deserve better.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t care. He did put a bounty on my head.” It was no use arguing with a man who had taken a gander around your brain.

“He wants you back, but what will he do with you once he has you?”

“It was always Miles and I…”

“He needs you, but perhaps… you don’t need him as much as you think.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Bass spat out stubbornly. “You shouldn’t have dug around my head, but since you did… It’s true. I love Miles. I basically slept with Charlotte to piss him off. And guess what? _It worked_. He’s more pissed than ever. And I have to fix this. I have to.”

But… was it all still true, what he had said? Bass was certain of it only because it was… so indelible before. _It was always you and me._ Bass and Miles. King and Mage. There was nothing else he knew. 

“As you wish,” Jeremy said and Bass felt something in the pit of his stomach churn. “You and Coreith can leave tomorrow morning, if you like, once you’ve had a good night’s rest. You deserve it after the service you’ve rendered me. I expect, since you’ve been in my head, that you won’t need an instruction manual on how to take care of your dragon?”

“I expect not,” Bass agreed quietly. 

He _had_ been inside Jeremy’s head. But for all the time he had apparently been allowed to stay there, he never dared look behind the curtain, afraid of what he might find there. An answer to the unasked question which he didn’t want to hear.

Seriously. It wasn’t funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, only one chapter left! Any special requests? I'll totally humor you ;)


	7. Well, Fuck Me!

Just as the last time when he found himself in that room at Castle Baker, sleep wouldn’t come. Bass would shut his eyes and try to imagine the look on Miles’ face when he returned with an adorable baby dragon on his shoulder. Or, perhaps Coreith would get bigger on the way, perhaps she’d come flying in behind him, like a dragon hot air balloon. He had to ask Jeremy if she’d get lonely and what kind of games dragons liked to play and…

Jeremy….

It would’ve been great if he could take Jeremy home to Miles. Yeah, _that_ would really get Miles’ goat, if he came back with a dragon _and_ a boyfriend.

What? Fuck.

Bass sat up in bed, his chest covered in a cold sweat.

Had the King of West Canadia been right? Was it possible that - well. No. But maybe? 

He placed his left hand against his right shoulder and shut his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like when Jeremy touched him. How secure it felt. How steadfast. All the times they were so close when Bass wanted to just lean in and kiss him, without allowing those thoughts to even register.

Well, fuck! He was fucked! And a moron! A fucked moron! So much fucking and so much moron! Actually, so little fucking. Even more moron!

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. But what if? Did Jeremy? And if Bass was to… Oh gods. _Oh gods_. 

Whatever was happening inside him was simultaneously liberating yet terrifying. Like jumping off a cliff into a magical pool. When you land - there’s magic and pool. But before you get there - stomach-dropping _terror_. 

And then Jeremy would laugh at him. And that would suck.

But it was all madness. They’d only known each other for a few days. Sure, they’d been through some serious _situations_ that would make anyone feel all close and cuddly, but Jeremy was still the King and Bass wasn’t even really a Court Mage anymore. He was just a jilted lover with a price on his head, because his ex was _territorial_.

You know what, _fuck Miles!_

Bass leapt out of bed and wrapped himself into a fluffy white robe that greeted him on the armchair the first time he had been shown to his chambers. The Canadians, he decided, were a lovely people.

He wasn’t exactly sure which door led to the King’s chambers but he figured he’d try his luck at the one with the two guards. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the duo as Jason and Danny, from the dragon-hunting party.

“Ah, gentlemen,” he gave the two young ones a cursory nod and rocked back and forth on his heels, hands in the deep pockets of his robe. He must’ve looked ridiculous, but ‘fake it till you make it’ had always been his motto. Well, one of. “I’d like to see the King.”

“It’s a bit late to be requesting an audience,” young Danny gave him lip. Bass could simply mind-boggle them, of course, and there would still be time for that later.

“Nevertheless, I’d appreciate it if you announced me,” Bass replied.

“King’s busy,” Jason offered and resumed his stoic and impassive stance.

“At this hour?”

“He’s in with Doctor Foster,” Danny snickered. 

“Who’s Doctor… Whatever?”

“He doesn’t like to be interrupted in the middle of his exams,” Jason added. Danny snickered again. This much fuckbaggery did not bode well for Bass.

“I see,” he turned to go and took a few steps along the corridor in the direction of his own room. 

But then he stopped. What was it that Jeremy had said to him? The one thing clearest in his mind was that Bass _was not a coward_. Whoever this ‘Doctor Foster’ was, he was going down. If anyone was gonna get to play doctor with Jeremy, it was damn well gonna be **Bass**.

He turned to face the guards and, “Look! A unicorn shitting rainbows!”

Pathetically easily mind-boggled, the two young men rushed down the corridor, leaving the door unattended. Bass braced himself for a moment of great awkwardness, gathered what resolve he had left, and barged right in.

He wasn’t sure _what_ he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t the King, reclining in his bed, propped up against numerous pillows, while a stern-looking blonde leaned over him with what was clearly a dowsing pendulum.

“Sebastian?” Jeremy grabbed the pendulum mid-swing and sat up in his bed.

“I’m in the middle of diagnosing!” The woman gave the King a stern look.

“Who the… what?” Sebastian pointed from the blonde intruder to the King and back at the woman, as if with that gesture he could express all that his words betrayed him to convey.

“This is my doctor, Maggie Foster. I wanted her to examine me, to make sure my regained powers were really stable. Now that you’re leaving, I can’t afford another…”

“I don’t care who she is,” Bass interrupted, causing the woman to drop her jaw and Jeremy to cock one of his eyebrows. “And I’m staying. That’s what I came here to say.”

“Maggie, my friend, will you leave us, please?” Jeremy gave the doctor a reassuring handshake, making Bass jealous of that merest touch alone.

“All right, my King, but I’ll return tomorrow for a thorough exam.” She looked towards Bass and added, “Not too early tomorrow,” with a wink towards the King.

She gave Bass a rather saucy once-over as she walked out of the room. As the door closed behind her, Bass could hear her chastising the guards, who must have returned to their post, their wild unicorn chase completely forgotten. “Good thing you two have your looks!”

“If you’ve decided to stay, you should learn better than to sass Doctor Foster,” Jeremy grinned from the bed.

“I’m sorry to barge in like this. I’m sure it’s against protocol and, well, you know I don’t have very good impulse control once the devil gets his hooks in me.” Bass felt his face blush.

“ _Has_ the devil got his hooks in you?”

Bass took another step towards the bed, feeling entirely like a jackass. All Bass knew of seduction he learned at the age of fourteen, when Miles surprised him by shoving a hand down his pants for the first time. Back then, it all seemed predestined. This was different - because he had a choice. In the candlelight, Jeremy’s skin appeared to have an even warmer glow than normally.

“Look, Jeremy,” he took a deep breath and tried to hold the King’s gaze, “You haven’t known me for long, but you’ve seen parts of me no one’s probably supposed to see. You know I’m stubborn, and impulsive, and half the time I act without thinking at all…”

“Only half?”

Bass laughed and was thankful for the temporary reprieve. He hadn’t planned this speech out, so all he knew was where he wanted to end up, but with no idea of how he was going to get there.

“But despite all that, you seem to think there’s something here that’s worth believing in,” Bass tapped his own chest. “And no one’s believed in me like that before. Not Miles, not anyone. And I don’t know if that’s just ‘cos you’re totally insane, or because maybe you found something in my head that I don’t even know is there, but… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

“You’re staying?”

“Yeah,” Bass exhaled. “Yeah, I guess that is what I’m trying to say.” And shyly added, “If you’ll have me here.”

“Come closer, Sebastian,” Jeremy patted the bed next to him and Bass carefully lowered himself to sit down on the mattress. “When our minds were connected, how did you control yourself from peeking into me?”

Bass wasn’t sure what he expected, but this twist in the discussion wasn’t it.

“Um… I guess I just… told myself _not to_.”

“I was just telling Maggie that you possess amazing control over your powers,” Jeremy smiled and ran his fingers up Bass’ arm and along the side of his face, towards his temples. “And now, I want you to tell yourself _to_.”

“What?”

“I want you to read my mind. Right now.”

“It’s a little invasive…”

“Do it.”

He felt the warmth of Jeremy’s fingers against his temple, just like out there in the mountains, and he allowed his eyes to close and his mind to wander in the direction where it felt Jeremy had been pulling him. 

_You’re so beautiful, Bass. If you were mine, I’d never let you go. Stay with me, always._

“Woah!” Bass’ eyes flew open and fixated on Jeremy’s face in wonder. “Well, fuck me!”

“Is that an exclamation of confounding discovery or an invitation?” Jeremy tilted his head to the side, curiously observing Bass’ reaction.

“Jeremy,” Bass muttered, not knowing what to do with his eyes, so he fixated them on his fingers. “You don’t… I’m not…” Bass’ eyes stung. He was so close to getting everything he wanted, all he had to do was reach out and grasp it, yet something inside him kept nagging that he wasn’t _worthy_.

“You _are_ ,” Jeremy’s voice was suddenly really close to Bass’ ear and, when he turned his face, their noses collided. And Bass had to shut his eyes again because he couldn’t stand to be that close to the answer to that question he still dared not ask. But Jeremy answered it simply by pressing his lips against Bass’ own.

It was a kiss with the heat of dragon fire, and the softness of the freshly driven snow. It warmed into the very fibers of Bass’ being, it melted the last of his reservations like the ice caps that had formed over his heart. Before he could come to his senses (King, holy shit, _King though!_ ), Bass had both his arms wrapped around Jeremy and they were tumbling back against the King’s numerous pillows. 

“Thanks for dressing appropriately,” Jeremy snickered as he divested Bass of the fluffy guest robe and tossed it to the floor.

“Was kinda hoping not to have to need clothes during this audience,” Bass mumbled, pressing heated kisses into the soft skin and taught tendons of Jeremy’s neck.

“Well, let me save you the trouble in the future - I henceforth forbid you to wear clothes in my presence.”

Bass admired the serious look on Jeremy’s face as he spoke.

“Neville might have a thing or two to say on the topic of appropriate court attire,” Bass craned down to place more kisses along Jeremy’s collarbones as he spoke.

“Neville can go get bent,” Jeremy pronounced with the same cool composure that he did everything else. He ran the palms of his warm hands along Bass’ flanks and pulled him closer to claim his mouth with a possessive kiss.

Suddenly, Bass felt really giddy, almost as if he was still astride the dragon, such a burst of joy that he had no idea how to contain it. It started as a giggle and had evolved into uncontrollable full body laughter until Bass had to roll off of Jeremy to catch his breath. It was incredible, this feeling, liberating. Yes. He was _free_. Lying next to his new King, he intertwined their fingers and brought Jeremy’s hand to his lips, to kiss each knuckle reverently.

“I didn’t come here to find love,” he mused quietly, meeting the other man’s eyes.

“No. But you’ll stay for it.” Jeremy pulled Bass closer again, entwining their legs.

“I’ll stay for it,” Bass agreed, tongue lazily tracing against the outline of Jeremy’s lips. “Love… And the dragons.”

 

The Endeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun and best fandom is still best! I love you guys a lot!


End file.
